Every Me and Every You
by Ninja-band-aid
Summary: They didn't do it right the first time. Everything went so wrong. But perhaps they can meet again... in the next world. Marluxia x Namine, assorted other pairings. Multi-universe. Reincarnation.
1. Prologue

N_B-a AN: Hey guys! It's N_B-a here with (drum roll please) another MaruMine fic! What can I say? They're my OTP. This one is my first attempt at a multi-chapter written on my own for my own sake. Normally I co-write so that I have somebody to urge me along, or I write requests as gifts for other people. But this time I'm going it alone, so wish me luck and review often so that I have a reason to keep going.

This story plays with the idea of reincarnation, playing off of the comment "Let's meet again, in the next life". We'll be going through the canon world, a few versions of the "real" world (Earth as we know it), several time periods, and a few fictional worlds – like Steampunk and science fiction. I'm really excited about this, and I think it'll turn out pretty well. Feel free to make suggestions and comments. And so without further ado, here we go.

Reviews fill me with

Unimaginable joy

And motivation

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'_I can't help but wish… that things had been… __**different**__, somehow.'_

His plans for domination of Organization XIII had been complex. Her powers had been elaborate.

'_Maybe if things hadn't… ended the way they had. Maybe if they hadn't begun… the way they did.'_

What he asked her to do was so hard. What she did was so painful.

'_Maybe things could have been… better. Or… maybe it all would have been worse, after all.'_

The relationship they'd experienced had been complicated. The place that housed all of this was labyrinthine.

'_Maybe… they wouldn't have been. Maybe they were supposed to be different… and we spoiled it ourselves.'_

In hindsight, why did it all seem so simple?

'_I just wish… that we could have done it… __**differently**__.'_


	2. As It Was 1

AN: Chapter one. The first few chapters are establishing things, set in the canon world. The better to set the stage and relationships, I think.  
>Any questions about the plot? Go ahead and review to ask me, I'd be glad to answer.<p>

Reviews fill me with  
>Unimaginable joy<br>And motivation

† † †

She didn't mind it. The captivity. It was safe, in a way. In the way that facing a monster head-on was safe. Better to have the dangers known and seen rather than hiding under the bed or in the closet, right?

No. That was a lie, and Namine knew it. She hated it here. She hated these dull white walls, the roman pillars and false lattices and flowers made of cold marble. She hated her pure white dress. She hated her captors, stinging like electricity and burning like flame and piercing like thorns. She hated the cold stare and icy touch and the stony silence and shaking footfalls and the calculating glare and paper cut of pages. She hated the replications and the tricks, the cards and the crystal ball.

She wasn't supposed to feel. They told her she couldn't, that she would never, that everything in her pretty, stupid little head was false. Her emotions were just the ghost limb after an amputation. But she felt so sure. Sometimes she was filled with a fury and a frustration when they told her that, no she wasn't feeling anything, it was all in her head. How dare they? How dare they tell her that what she felt – what she knew to be truth – wasn't real? Namine knew it was valid. She knew she had emotions. She cared too much – how could that not be an emotion?

But then the hate and the fury faded. It all ebbed down to a chill lake of despair. It wasn't fresh, like a grief. It was just a cold tideless sea of sadness in her chest – where her heart was supposed to have been? It never left her. Even when she was angry, it was always there, lurking just beneath the fire. It wouldn't leave her, not ever.

It was the part of her that knew itself to be trapped, the part that recognized the captivity, like the doll in the birdcage over Namine's head – always over Namine's head.

Marluxia. Larxene. Axel. Zexion. Vexen. Lexaeus.

Marluxia.

It was all their fault.

All his fault.

The way he looked at her gave her chills colder than any winter. Colder than Vexen's lab. Colder than Larxene's eyes. Colder than the creepy indifference with which Axel met his coworkers, or the indifference with which Zexion met the world.

Was this how Red Riding Hood felt when the wolf met her on the road?

'Little girl, you look so good. I could just eat you up alive…' Like Namine was candy, and Marluxia was a starving man.

But, oddly enough, she wasn't so certain that she didn't like it. And unlike the captivity, she wasn't just lying about it to make herself feel better. That fact only made it all the worse, though. She shouldn't like it. She shouldn't like the way he looked at her, the way he gave her those sneaky, private grins. She shouldn't like the way her made up all these little excuses to touch her. She shouldn't like her captor.

Why did she like her captor?

Maybe she was imprinted on him. Like a duckling to his mother. Marluxia had found her fresh, after all. He'd been the first thing she'd seen. Everything before him was darkness; darkness that didn't even have the courtesy to be warm or soothing, but was instead cold and empty.

And then a flash of pink interrupted that darkness. Pink and gold, slicing through everything. And a shower of small, soft pink, swirling around Namine like a perfect gentle vortex. And then a face. Cool, perfect, shaped as if from marble, like the sculpture of some brilliant artist.

The artist must have gone mad with longing for a sculpture so fine. Maybe this was the work of Pygmalion. Maybe Namine was dreaming an artwork come to life. She knew nothing, yet she knew what she could do.

He had come through the darkness for her. He tore it apart with his blade, rescuing the damsel from her distressing dark. To find her, to take her, to bring her to Castle Oblivion.

"In this place," he whispered close to her ear as he tucked her soft hair behind it, "To find is to lose… and to lose is to find. And that's all thanks to you."

His breath was so warm on her face… she could have sworn he kissed her cheek.

If it had only been him, she would have been happy. Marluxia and Namine, all alone in Castle Oblivion, safe from the whole world. Theirs would have been a beautiful place of flowers and crayons and soil and paper. All for the two of them. They didn't need anyone else, Namine knew it. As long as it was just the two of them, everything would be wonderful. The rest of the world could do as it pleased; Namine had no desire for it.

That was before she walked through those doors into the marble palace itself. Before she met the rest of the Organization. Before she learned of (or perhaps remembered) Sora and Kairi and Riku. Before they explained to Namine what she was and what her purpose was to be.

She'd been rescued from the darkness just for this? Just to toy with people? To hurt them? To help a madman with his coup?

A beautiful madman.

Even as she did as she was bid, Namine could not help but be distracted by Marluxia. The way he held himself she never could quite capture on the page. She wished she could, if only to keep it with her, just for future reference.

The funny thing was, he was being distracted by her, too. For every time Namine glanced sideways at the reaper, he stole a look at her. Sometimes they had the good fortune to meet in the middle. They would catch each other's eyes, pretty blue meeting pretty blue, and the holes in their chests would ache. Like the chests missed what ought to have sped rate, thrilled to see eyes so pretty.

Namine would blush (how could she blush? She had no heart) and look back to her drawing. Marluxia would exhale sharply, as if her could the thoughts of her from his mind with so simple an action.

But that did no good. He found such thoughts sticking fast, like they'd been glued to the inside of his eyelids. Because every time he closed his eyes, there she was.

It was really only ever a matter of time.

Namine was left alone but rarely. Especially at first; nobody trusted the witch to be by herself. They were not entirely certain of the depth and breadth of her powers just yet. They didn't know if she could draw herself a door, or worse, draw their deaths. They wanted to be sure that if this girl could single-handedly ruin their plans, they would be near enough to stop her in time.

They needn't have worried, of course. Namine was terrified of them by the end of the first week. She didn't want to be near any of them, and angering them would certainly put them near, painfully so.

But still, they worked in shifts to babysit the girl.

Larxene was the worst. She was cruel, twisted, oh-so willing to pull and claw and rip every little bit of Namine she got her hands on – and she took any excuse. Her visits left Namine bruised and jolted.

Axel was odd. He seemed to be bored of most of his comrades, and only mildly amused by Namine. He liked to have her draw things for him. She rarely got any work done when he was on duty, but she didn't mind very terribly.

The basement trio flatly refused to have a thing to do with Namine. She wasn't worth their precious time.

But Marluxia... Marluxia's visits were different. They were silent and shy, at first. At least on Namine's part. And then they became, if not chatty, then at least comfortable. Marluxia actually seemed interested in his little memory witch. He wanted to know more about her:  
>How did her powers work? <em>'I draw and want things to be as a draw them, and they are.'<em>  
>Did she know how she did it? <em>'I don't know.'<em>  
>Did she have some little trick to differentiate between just a drawing and a work of memory? <em>'I have to mean it when I want the memory to change.'<em>  
>Did she like to draw? <em>'It makes me feel like what happy used to be.'<em>  
>What did she like to draw? <em>'Beaches. People.'<em>  
>Could she sense that her Somebody was alive? <em>'I think so. There's a nagging in the back of my mind, like someone else's thoughts behind my own. I can tell when she's feeling something strong. Right now she feels sad.'<em>  
>What did she remember of her Somebody life? <em>'Her - Kairi's - friends. Sora. Riku. The beach.'<em>

And then Namine found herself reciprocating.  
>What was his power? <em>'I grow things. I grow things to hurt people.'<em>  
>Were there more Nobodies? <em>'Thirteen known of. Plus you.'<em>  
>Why were there Nobodies? <em>'That's a question for The Superior. Perhaps I can explain someday.'<em>  
>Did he like what he did? <em>'Yes. I like the flowers.'<em>  
>What was his favorite flower? <em>'Roses. They're the best.'<em>

Could she please see some flowers?

He took her to see the flowers. They were beautiful.

"You grow them so well," Namine whispered softly, clutching her sketchbook to her chest.  
>They stood side-by-side in a room of the castle. Namine didn't have free run of the place, by any means, but she had never guessed that this was here. She would never have expected it.<br>But the way he looked at it, perhaps she should have. He looked with almost a longing, like he loved this place.

Namine hadn't known he could feel that way.

"Of course I grow them well," Marluxia replied with not quite a scoff, "It's what I do. It's all I do."

Namine wondered if she ought to argue that point, but ultimately decided against it.  
>Instead, she looked up at him. He was so much taller than her – she looked like a child beside him. Perhaps, in a roundabout way, she was. After all, she was a Nobody newly born. He'd been around for… how long had he been around? Marluxia didn't quite know himself. What need was there for a Nobody's birthday?<p>

"Show me your favorites," requested the little blonde, "Show me the roses."

Marluxia nodded once and obliged, guiding her by a hand on her back to a special patch. The roses had a flowerbed al their own, mulched with dark, dark black soil. Brilliant greens grew from the black, in bushes and stems and vines. And the most beautiful little buds sprouted from each of these.

Little clusters of pink – "Rosa Regosa," Marluxia identified it, as if the Latin meant something to Namine.

An enormous cream bud – "Rosa Gigantica," he supplied with a detached air.

Almost orange – "Joseph's coat rose," he spoke the common, colorful name.

Nothing had bloomed yet. Not even the red tree roses, the ones Marluxia called "Queen of Hearts".

Namine wondered at all of them. "But which one is your favorite?"

Marluxia looked down at her with something like surprise in his eyes. "…the roses," he replied, sounding almost confused.

Namine shook her head 'no'.

"They're all roses, but which sort is your favorite?"

"I will have to think about that." The question had apparently never occurred to him.

The Nobodies eventually turned around and began to walk back through the garden. As they made their way down the crushed marble path, a scent caught Namine's nose. She inhaled delicately.

"…what's that?" she asked in a whisper. Marluxia didn't hear. She repeated herself, a little louder this time. Marluxia had gotten a few steps ahead of her now as she drifted in the direction of the scent.

"Hm?" he turned his head, still walking, only to find Namine no longer at his heel. He blinked, looking around the room, only to find her standing before a short tree. He turned on his heel in the gravel and was back behind her in three long strides.

She seemed enthralled by the perfect, soft white blossoms peeking from the waxy green leaves of the tropical tree.

"Gardenia," he supplied in a whisper, leaning down behind her. His breath tickled the back of her neck and stirred her fine hair as he spoke. Namine shivered.

"They're beautiful," she whispered in turn. She closed her eyes and leaned in, inhaling deep in the back of her mouth, filling herself with the beautiful, heady scent. "They smell so good."

"Do you like them?" Marluxia asked without any special inflection to his voice.

She breathed deeply again. "Yes, I do."

A long arm with a gloved hand reached forward to the tree, twisting a delicate blossom from the tree. The entire plant shook gently as it was relieved of its flower. Namine turned her head quickly as Marluxia reached his arms around her from behind, leaning over her shoulder.

He took one of her hands and brought it in front of her breast, palm facing the bright ceiling. He set the bloom in her tender hand and curled the fingers around it, cupping her bare hand in his leather-clad hands. The smell drifted to Namine's head, making her dizzy. Or perhaps that was the company.

"Then it's yours," he said smoothly.

Namine was almost glad for her lack of a heart at that moment. It saved her from having it beat right out of her chest.

She smelled the sweet perfume all the way back to her room.


	3. As It Was 2

AN: Yes, it's a triple-upload right out the gate. I like to do that with long stories. Don't get too used to it though. After this it's one a week if I can bring myself to do it.  
>Interestingly, this is the first posted-as-I-write story I've done. Everything else is as I edit it or long after I've finished. All the more reason to review so I don't quit?<p>

Reviews fill me with  
>Unimaginable Joy<br>And motivation

More...

† † †

To Namine's surprise, her pretty white flower had wilted and turned a rotten shade of brown by the next morning. Its lovely heady scent had turned cloying. She was surprised and saddened by this – she hadn't exactly expected it to stay perfect forever, but she had hoped that, perhaps, in a castle that toyed with memory, such a lovely memento might be safe.

When Marluxia appeared through the darkness later that day, she asked him about it.

He regarded the wilted flower on the side table, letting his eyes drift lazily back to the girl who sat like a wilted flower on her chair.

"This is the nature of things," he told her calmly, "Flowers wilt quickly. They aren't made to go on after they've been cut from their plant."

'Cut' reminded Namine uncomfortably of Marluxia's scythe. How could someone so lovely be so deadly?

She watched his eyes as he said this to her. For a moment, just a moment, she almost thought he'd looked regretful.

It was really only the natural progression of life that the two of them began to seek one another. As isolated and lonesome as Namine was, Marluxia was very nearly more so.

He had his partners – Larxene and Axel. To an extent he had the basement creeps. He had his plan. And should he abruptly change his mind regarding that plan, he had the rest of the Organization. He might be nothing but a Nobody, but at least he had all of them. And he had his plants, his wonderful plants.

But he was in this by himself, to at least some degree. If his plans were discovered, it would be his head on Xemnas' pike. He was the one Sora sought to find and destroy. He was the one who had to hold this Castle on his shoulders.

Around Namine, he could relax. He found himself growing ever more comfortable in her presence. She was so quiet and soft of a person, placid and sweet. She didn't want to hurt anybody, for any reason. It was a refreshing change from Marluxia's usual companions. He might have said that he would go so far as to trade them for her, had he such an option.

Of course he didn't. He would never have a chance like that. He was who he was (Marluxia, the Graceful Assassin, Lord of Castle Oblivion, future Superior of the Organization) and she was who she was (Namine, the Memory Witch, Nobody of Kairi, the tool of Marluxia's cup). They were Nobodies. They could never be anything more or less than what they were.

If Marluxia hadn't known better, he'd have claimed that he wanted something different. But that was impossible. He couldn't want in this way.

Still, the two began spending quite a bit of time together, quietly content to be in the same room. Namine would sketch for Marluxia's plans or for her own pleasure, and Marluxia would sharpen his scythe or make his plans.

Sometimes he would just watch her. It gave him an inordinate level of peace to see her there, so close to him. It all happened so quickly.

It was unplanned. It was hasty. It was awkward. Marluxia hadn't meant it. He hadn't even known what he was doing until it was done. He felt the impulse to move and he simply gave up and gave his body control.

One moment he was sitting at one end of the room, leaning back in his seat, arms folded as he stared across the negative space to Namine. She was so lovely, small and delicate as any bloom he grew, seated in her place, legs together on the floor, sandaled toes lined up to make an exact parabola. Her lap held her square, clean notebook, and she brushed the page softly to clear it of the excess color from her black pencil.

He wasn't sure what she was drawing. He couldn't see it form his angle. But it didn't matter. It was Namine he wanted; he could care less what she was drawing.

The next moment, he was on his feet. He didn't even remember standing, let alone crossing the room to sink into a bow by Namine's side.

She turned her head, startled to see him so close so suddenly. She opened her lips to say something, but whatever she'd been about to say was stolen, lost in limbo between their mouths.

Marluxia reached forward and cupped the back of her small, blonde head in his massive sheathed hands. He tilted her forward, and before either could register what was happening, they kissed.

Namine was struck by how wonderful it was. She couldn't even begin to register her own surprise, she was so lost in the perfection of the experience. He was so strong but so soft, an iron fist in a kid glove. Firm and so yielding. He was perfect.

The man felt her soft lips and couldn't believe he was kissing them. She felt so small and fragile. He'd known she was both of these things, of course. He'd known that from the moment his scythe ripped through the darkness to reach her. But he'd never felt it so completely.

He could shatter her in an instant, he realized. He could tear her apart, dash her to the floor, break her bones like glass and rip her skin like paper. He could bruise her, he could rob her of her self. He could make her sob and make her bleed. He could kill her and it would take him only the effort of summoning his scythe, if even that.

But he didn't want to. He never wanted to do anything to hurt her, not any more than he already had.

If only they'd had emotions. He could have sworn that this was love.

Marluxia and Namine tilted their heads towards one another before splitting apart at last. Both gasped for air, blue eyes locked and noses so close.

Namine smiled with an open, panting mouth and cast her eyes down shyly. She leaned forward and rubbed their noses together in a sweet, innocent, Eskimo kiss.

Marluxia smiled back at her, stroking her soft hair, combing it through his gloved fingers.

"I wish I could love you," he whispered to her, holding her small body.

She didn't look up at him. She couldn't bring herself to do so. "I wish I could love you," she replied.

"I know," he said slowly, pulling her gently forward to him. She buried her face in his neck and chest. He smelled so sweet. Like a lighter version of her gardenias.


	4. As It Was 3

AN: This is the fastest I've ever justified the M rating in a story this long. Go figure. If you don't want to read such things (why are you here?) skip everything between the first set of dagger-cross-things.

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Unimaginable joy

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† † †

The day Sora arrived at Castle Oblivion, Marluxia was tense. He was usually so cool and collected; it caught Namine's attention.

"What's wrong?" she asked of him when he stepped through the darkness and into her tower room that day, "You seem…" Agitation wasn't an emotion, was it?

He looked at her sharply, his hair swishing as he turned. "Nothing," he said just a touch too quickly, "I'm fine." He quieted before adding, "Sora has arrived."

Namine felt her gut twist uncomfortably. Residual feelings from Kairi did that sometimes. "Oh," she responded quietly.

She watched Marluxia cross the room to where her sketchpad sat unattended on her chair. She hung back in the middle of the room, watching him as he lifted the pad and flipped it open, lazily turning through the pages.

He lifted his head and with a flick of the wrist, tossed the sketchpad to her. It spun flat in the air like a frisbee, and Namine just barely caught it, clasping it against her chest awkwardly. Her eyes rose curiously to his face.

"Draw," he commanded calmly.

"What?" she followed-up, flipping to a blank page.

"…One of Sora's memories," he replied.

She started to sketch, pulling a blue pencil form behind her ear and outlining a shoreline. But Marluxia wasn't finished.

"Draw it," he repeated, "and then erase Kairi." Namine looked up at him, blinking. They'd never taken so drastic of a measure before this. Marluxia kept talking. "Replace her."

"With what?" Namine asked as it dawned on her where Marluxia was taking this thread of thought.

He raised a perfect pink brow at her. "What do you think, Memory Witch?"

Namine pointed to herself experimentally. A cool smile flitted across Marluxia's lips. "Good girl," he complimented, "You're not so stupid, love."

She felt her missing heart ache for his words. She nodded to him. "It will be ready soon," she promised.

A sweep of his arm and Marluxia opened a portal to the darkness. His cool smile widened as he pulled his hood over his head. "Good."

He took a step and was gone, leaving his girl alone with her task.

† † †

When they finally did have sex, it was quite without passion. There had been no planning, no declarations of love and desire, no adoring close calls leading the way. One day, Marluxia simply looked at Namine. She looked at him. They regarded each other in a silence akin to the still before the storm of their first kiss. And then they moved as one.

They crossed the wide white room to each other, drawing close enough to touch. She reached out to him, spreading her arms and setting her hands to grasp a shoulder each. Namine pushed his hair back from his black leather coat collar and ran her tapered fingers up and down the soft back of his neck.

He touched her face, twirling white-yellow strands of hair around his gloved fingers. He pulled her closer and, when his hands met behind her back, began to pull the gloves from his hands, one finger at a time.

It was not really a matter of making love so much as it was a matter of a mutual feeling of _this is something we should do_. That said, there was not a sense of duty to it. Neither was lying back to think of England. They were active and engaged, but robotic. They went through the motions.

They kissed as intently as ever. Hot hands were revealed and began to touch and to stroke. Namine pinched the zipper to Marluxia's cloak between her thumb and index knuckle, drawing it slowly down, down, down. She then reached up, running her fingers over the ridges of his stomach like a stick bumping the slats of a fence, until she reached his shoulders. A simple push was all it took to slip his coat from his body, and it pooled on the floor around him, as if he'd emerged from darkness to stand there.

He gave her dress a similar treatment, pinching the wide straps of her dress and tugging them to the sides. He placed his hands on either side of her waist and tugged down, letting the dress smooth and slink its way over her hips to the floor. She took a step forward, into him, toes pushing the sandals from her heels and sliding out as she did so.

Marluxia took little time to unclip his boots and unbutton his pants. Namine's hands on her hips removed her panties effortlessly. And then the two stood bare, facing one another. Clothes of black and white discarded, they were no longer polarized, suddenly of the same pinkish, cream flesh. Adam and Eve, reborn.

They had no major reactions towards seeing one another bare. Marluxia was hardened and Namine was wet – they were ready for this. But they were detached from it, as if their bodies had gone on ahead and decided that if the brains weren't going to think sexy thoughts, the bodies would just have to get to it without any help!

On such a note, they fell into one another, kissing. Namine wrapped her arms around Marluxia's neck and he set his hands on her waist. They held this place, as if dancing. Then Marluxia's arms tensed and lifted his lady-love to bring her closer. Namine wrapped her legs around his waist.

They slid together, fitting like puzzle pieces. Namine winced for a moment, setting her teeth, but the pain was so slight – the nic of a razor for a few seconds, and then it was gone. She sighed. A rush of air left his parted lips with no discernable sound.

The two vaguely wondered if they would enjoy this more if they had it in their selves to love, to care for one another as they could not now do.

Maybe this would mean more if they were Somebodies.

But they weren't Somebodies. They were Nobodies. And this was all they had, all they would ever have. They had these bodies coming together, thrusting and grinding and writhing, sending spasms of pleasure tingling up and down their spines. They had hot breath and sweet kisses that tasted of spear-mint leaves and sweat and the chewed ends of pencils. They had this mutual feeling of longing, of things just out of their grasp.

They had all of that. And they had to be happy with it. They had to make do, because nothing else would ever change for them.

But at least when they released, Namine's back pressed against the cool marble wall, in sharp contrast to Marluxia's heated body pressing into her breasts, Marluxia tilting his hips and slamming into Namine's heat in a rhythmless staccato beat, it was together. That was more than others could say. Even Somebodies.

† † †

"Are you alright?" Marluxia whispered to Namine.

They lay still bare in her bed, entwined with their legs tangled, Marluxia pulling Namine to his chest, heads bowed towards one another, so close their noses might touch with a slight tilt. She was playing absently with his soft pink hair.

"Yes," she replied in a hoarse murmur, "It aches. Just a bit. Nothing terrible."

"Good," Marluxia replied. It took him some time to find what he was trying to say before finally settling, "I'm… I'd be… I'd be glad if I could."

Namine understood and nodded to him, eyes watching his. "I enjoyed it," she assured him, "It felt good."

If she didn't know better, she would have said Marluxia looked a bit relieved. If he had, she'd have said it was sweet. He could be such a child. Nobody knew that but her now. It was like their own, private thing, a secret.

"Would you want to do it again?" he asked, voice flat.

She thought for only a second before responding, "Yes. I would. But not now. Later. When I heal."

The man nodded. That was logical. And what were they if not things of logic? They had nothing else.


	5. As It Was 4

AN: And so ends the first world. After this, we will be going to the modern Earth as we know it. Because Namine and Marluxia need to get an education… don't they? Don't worry: I promise I won't delve into any stereotypical high school junk. Higher education!

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† † †

They never had the chance to do anything again. They had their stolen kisses, they had their longing glances and their wistful sighs. But they never had one another.

It took the keyblade master only two weeks to run the maze of Castle Oblivion. To him it felt like much less. To Marluxia it felt like much less. To Namine, it seemed to drag on forever.

Her ties to Kairi were toying with her mind. Though she had no emotions and she knew it, she kept _feeling_ things. She had an odd connection to Sora. She always had the urge to check on him, to make sure he was doing alright, to protect him from what the Castle was doing to him, what the Organization was doing to him… what _she_ was doing to him.

Namine would draw herself into his life and feel her stomach twist in a facsimile of guilt. Maybe that was it. Maybe because she drew herself into his life, he became a force in her make-believe history. She couldn't explain it.

Worst of all, she would not go to Marluxia about it. She couldn't do that to him. He had placed this task up to her, he who would be her love if they could had trust her to do something for him. Just a simple request, not much really. How could she dare to let him down, to even worry him?

She couldn't. So she suffered alone.

When Sora confronted Larxene, something drove Namine to go to them, to try to keep Larxene from being too harsh. While Namine had no allegiance to the sadistic older blonde, but she knew she oughtn't impede her, as it would only set back her Marluxia. But she just… couldn't... help it.

She was slapped aside for her efforts. No surprise there.

The feelings only grew worse day by day. She was so anxious all the time, so stressed.

Her drawings suffered for it. Marluxia noticed, but did not comment.

Their kisses soured on Namine's tongue. This, her lover did not notice.

When Axel gave her the chance to run to where Marluxia and Sora confronted one another, she jumped at the chance. Gods help her, but she jumped. Even as she ran form the room, she wondered what she was doing. She felt manic and rushed, like the world was blurring around her, the edges going fuzzy and inexact.

The rush of feeling was so confusing. Nothing made sense anymore.

Even when she stood between Marluxia – her lover, her flower, the Nobody who was Somebody to her – and Sora – just a boy, just a stupid Somebody boy who she only thought she knew because he thought he knew her – she wondered what was wrong with her. But she didn't worry enough to make herself move.

It was only after the two had fought, after Sora dealt his critical hit, after her Marluxia lay to bleed thick darkness from his wounds to stain the alabaster floor, that the gravity of what she had done finally sank into her bones.

Perhaps it was just the rush from Kairi, but Namine cried. The first and only time in her life, and Namine broke down and sobbed. Marluxia's dark pseudo-blood seeped into her dress as she knelt by his dissolving body, staining her knees and her clothes a sickly grey.

His mouth moved like a fish in the last seconds. Open. Shut. Open. Shut. The color drained from his perfect, soft lips, turning from sweet pink to an ashen pallor. He never managed his last words. But his eyes did focus onto her face in the final seconds. She knew he knew she was there. At least she had that.

She would spend many nights lying in bed, wondering what he would have said, had it been in his power.

These nights were spent trying to right her wrongs, to amend for the sins she'd unthinkingly inflicted. She hadn't done any of it of spite. She had no issue with Sora or the King or with any of them. She had no love for anyone in the Organization, save her Marluxia, and he was gone now. Gone with Nobody to mourn him.

A Nobody.

So she fixed his memories. She helped him as she could. She helped his Nobody reunite with him. She even went willingly when the chance came for her to meld together with her own Somebody.

Kairi never even knew who Marluxia was. She never even cared. Namine would have hated her for that, if she could have. But even when Kairi and she became one again, it was not two halves of a whole. It was all that was Namine melding back into a whole greater than the sum of its parts. Kairi had gone on existing without Namine, after all. She didn't miss anything that was Namine. She didn't care.

When Namine died, she answered a question she'd had watching Marluxia pass form her. Had he had any regrets?

In her last moments as herself, Namine realized that, in spite of it all, she could still feel nothing of her own. Nothing she'd done registered as real. She could not hope. She could not regret. She could never feel. Not in this life.

No. He had not regretted a thing. Neither did she. Thought she did wish… wish that maybe things had been… _different_.

And then Namine ceased.


	6. Studying Your Every Motion 1

A/N: Annnd we're on to round two.

Playlist for this life:

Jane – Barenaked Ladies

I'm Just Your Problem – Adventure Time

Diamonds and Coal - Incubus

Big Girls Don't Cry - Fergie

Ex-girlfriend Syndrome – Charlotte Sometimes

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Unimaginable joy

And motivation

† † †

_Thunk-thunk. Thunk-thunk. Thunk-thunk._

Namine could feel her heart beating in her ears. 'Nervous' did not even begin to cover this. Calling this 'nerves' would be like saying Fran Lebowitz was having a slow day. Calling this 'nerves' would be like saying the zombie apocalypse might be a minor traffic stall. Calling this 'nerves' would be like saying her ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend had only been playing around.

Wait, but wasn't that what they'd said it was?

Damn it.

Call it nerves, call it butterflies, call it her buzzing brain trying to march into battle with her poor broken heart sobbing in her chest, call it whatever! Namine (and everyone else) called it 'orientation day', and she just wanted to survive it. Because living to see another day, another painful, suck-tastic, awkward, stressful day, would be sort of nice. Because if she could make it one more, maybe she could make it two more, or three, or sixteen, or as many as it took to get through this and come out the other side with a shiny Baccalaureate's degree of Fine Arts to show for it.

The eighteen year old felt a wetness at her wrist and looked down to find that she was chewing on the sleeve of her brand-new college sweatshirt. She'd quit that bad habit after Roxas taught her the rubber band trick in Junior year! And now, apparently, she was back to it, without a rubber band or a Roxas in sight.

Damn it.

She bunched her arms up in the sleeves to keep the spit-soaked knit off of her skin. It gave her the appearance of a very awkward amputee. Namine didn't even care; she was more upset that she'd ruined her new clothes already, and the school year had just started. She'd lose it, but the autumn morning air was too chill for her to take it off, and she was already running too late to go change.

Damn it.

Maybe college was a bad idea after all. She- she hadn't really wanted to do this, had she? She just wanted to get a studio in a nice place and paint. Not New York, she was too quiet for a big crazy city. Roxas used to tease her about that.

"_All artists want to go there but you! But that's ok. You're too shy, they'd eat you alive."_ And then he'd ruffle her blonde hair and kiss her on the top of the head and call her _"mousey"_, in that way he always did that made Namine almost mostly sure that he meant it as an endearment ad not an insult.

Mousey. She was his mousey. She used to be.

Her stomach did a little flip and her chest tugged painfully. Ow. It still hurt. Two weeks and it still hurt like Hell.

"Two weeks isn't much, in the scheme of things," Namine muttered to herself, folding her arms inside of her zipped-to-the-chin sweatshirt and shuffling down the sidewalk, "Not compared to three whole years. It's probably just a fraction, right? Two weeks out of… um… four weeks in a month, twelve months in a year…" Namine stopped walking, the paper-bag leaves crinkling under her feet as she shuffled in place, counting dip-tap on her fingers.

She lost count someplace around one hundred forty two. But that seemed close, didn't it?

"…This is why I'm in art and not in math," she muttered, staring off into the too-too-blue sky. Maybe she should have taken harder classes. Maybe integrated math had been a bad idea after all. Maybe if she'd taken calculus or something, maybe then she'd be in something other than a state school on an art scholarship.

Self-doubt decided to pile onto the already heavy weight in her chest that was called 'Roxas and Kairi'. Her boyfriend and best friend. Or at least, that was what she'd called them three weeks ago. Until she walked in on them.

Her stomach twisted again. It was like God was giving her an internal purple-nurple.

That was so stupid that it wasn't even funny.

She kicked the leaves at her feet, making them scatter with a red and yellow rustle. The slight woosh of air only made some of them cling to the frayed hems of her jeans and the cotton knit of her sneakers. Namine shook her foot to try to knock them away, but of course it didn't work.

"…stupid leaves," she muttered bitterly.

"Actually, they're pretty smart," supplied a helpful voice from just behind Namine's back. It gave her a pretty heavy startle and she lifted her head stock-straight on her neck, making her resemble nothing so much as a meerkat. That only made the voice laugh slightly.

"Did I scare you?" it asked, Doppler-effect indicating that it was getting closer. Namine turned around, kicking up further leaves. She found herself face-to-face with a young man. Well, no, that wasn't honest. Face-to-chest was more like it. Namine was not what one might consider particularly tall.

She didn't reply, she just sort of stared. Namine wasn't what one might consider particularly outgoing, either. People made her tongue-tied. Especially boys. Especially pretty boys.

And this one was pretty darn pretty.

Tall and thin, but not _too_ wiry – a bicyclist not a computer geek. He also had a slight tan, like he'd spent the summer somewhere outdoorsy, but not _too_ bright – like camping as opposed to surfing. He had broad shoulders, but not _too_ broad – a hiker or a swimmer rather than a linebacker. He had very soft auburn hair to his shoulders and a pair of wire-rim rectangular glasses over the bluest eyes Namine had seen since Roxas.

He was beautiful. Her heart raced.

He knitted his brows, looking down at her. "Are… you ok? I didn't mean to frighten you."

Namine nodded slowly.

"Um…" the young man glanced around, as if looking for help, but the only other people on this street were other freshman hurrying from the East Dorms to the Quad for the morning orientation activity, and they were all as late as Namine. And, probably, this guy.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and looked back down to her. "Do you have a medical condition or something? Selective muteness? I don't bite. Really."

Namine hated herself for not having anything good to say back to him.

Suddenly there was a hand in her face. He had big hands, slightly callused around the finger pads, very square and honest. "I'm Marluxia." Namine glanced from the hand to the face. She didn't know what was commanding the hand to do so, because she certainly didn't make a real decision to shake his hand, but suddenly she was.

Just as mysteriously, she was squeaking a soft, pathetic, "N-Namine."

Marluxia shook her hand firmly but gently, and smiled. He had a fantastic smile. "Well, Miss Namine, it's very nice to meet you," he said, "Are you a freshman, too?"

She nodded.

"Then I bet that you are as late to orientation as I am. Want to walk there with me?"

Shockingly, she nodded again.

Marluxia smiled. "Cool." And then he just stood there. Namine wasn't quite sure what was going on when he said, "Um, Namine?" Her eyes flicked up questioningly. "You can let go of my hand now."

She blushed like a ripe apple.

'_Oh, Namine, you siren, you.'_


	7. Studying Your Every Motion 2

A/N: And now we flip to Marluxia, if you couldn't tell. Huzzah for background.

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She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Honestly, he didn't even know what to do with himself. She was just so… so… what was the word? He'd never been very good at words. Unless they were big words, like Latin names for plants, or fancy biological terms. Then he was pretty solid.

Marluxia had to suppress a sigh whenever he saw Namine. She was exactly his type: smart, pretty, blonde… especially blonde. She was just like the other people he'd date, and yet so very different.

He lay back on his bed and glanced at the unframed pictures tacked to the corkboard on the wall to his right. There he was, smiling and tugging on two parts of his ex-girlfriend's electric yellow hair, giving her the impression of having antenna. Larxene had been smart, pretty, and blonde, too. She'd been his first girlfriend. They were kids at the time, fourteen when they got together and fifteen when they broke up. And they'd known each other since they'd been in diapers, of course. They both came from the same nerdy, geeky stock; their parents were all MENSA members, and often competed for grant money for their studies. They always managed to put the rivalries aside long enough for cookouts and dinners and play-dates with the kids.

Both families had been so thrilled when Larxene and Marluxia started dating. _"Think of the brilliant offspring!"_ they'd all crowed. Foolish of them, really. Fourteen year olds weren't much for commitment.

At least they'd stayed friends when they split.

Blue eyes floated down to another picture, this one of two grinning teenagers hoisting a fist place science fair trophy.

A year and a half after ending things with Larxene, Marluxia was feeling rebellious. And experimental. So he started seeing his AP Chem partner.

Vexen was smart, pretty, and blonde. And a boy. And Marluxia had been really into him for a really long time. They only parted ways after Christmas senior year, when Vexen claimed he needed to really focus on his research – those scholarships didn't win themselves, after all!

Marluxia's parents had actually taken the bisexual thing pretty well. As a rebellion it had fallen pretty damn flat.

What didn't fall flat was Marluxia's choice of a school.

"_But you got into Harvard!"_ his mother had wailed when he informed her of his final decision.

"_But Reed offered you a grant!"_ insisted his father in the next breath.

But Marluxia didn't want Harvard. And he didn't want Reed. He wanted the state school. It was big, it was decent with academics (no Ivy, but not shabby, either), and it actually offered him the chance to have a social life. And they offered him a full ride, which sure as Hell didn't hurt.

The only reason they'd let him go was because he was eighteen already and they couldn't stop him for love or money. They hadn't even known he'd applied in the first place.

Marluxia was fairly certain that they'd consoled themselves by thinking he'd transfer to a 'better' school when he came to his senses. But four months in, and Marluxia had never been this happy.

Finally his life wasn't all about school. Finally he could be the smartest kid in the school without having to ruin his life studying for it. Finally, he had a social life.

And he had Namine.

Well, no. Not quite.

He had Namine's friendship. He had Namine's e-mail and phone number and dorm key and class schedule. And he had Namine for study group in the afternoons. But he didn't have Namine.

"_Listen, Marly," _she'd sighed to him for the tenth time a week ago, _"I can't go out with you!"_

Marluxia threw a hi-bounce ball against the opposing wall, letting it spring back into his lap.

"But I though you liked me," he mouthed to himself, alone in his dorm, repeating the words he'd said then.

"_I just need a friend right now. I want to go to school and I want to forget about Roxas and this isn't how I can do that. I just want a friend. Can you just be my friend?"_

"Yah, Nami," he groaned to himself over the dull _thunk_ of the ball smacking the plaster, "Yah, I'll just be your friend. I understand."

He'd thought she liked him so much. She seemed to shy when they'd met; he'd taken it to mean she was into him. But no, by the end of the day it became very clear that she was like that around everyone. And what was more, Marluxia became the only familiar thing so fast that he was trapped in the Friend Zone before he'd even known what hit him.

She'd explained it to him, of course. Often. She was considerate that way.

Her boyfriend had cheated on her with her best friend. And she'd been the last to know. By graduation she was the laughingstock of her high school, the clueless running gag. She just wanted to study studio arts and become a painter and move somewhere safe and quiet. Like Connecticut. Or Ohio.

She didn't feel safe anymore. She didn't feel like she could trust anymore. And Marluxia didn't blame her. But he couldn't help how he felt about her.

She was just so different. Larxene had been smart, but she knew it, and she used it, usually in a mildly sadistic sort of way. She had this gift for electronics, and usually used it to hurt: she rigged up doorknobs to shock people and set alarms on locker doors. And then she'd laugh at the yelping like it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen.

Actually, she was kind of a bitch.

Then there was Vexen. He was cool and stand-offish, more interested in the periodic table of elements than his own boyfriend. His free time was spent in a lab. Dates? What dates? Carbon dates? Dating Vexen had been a pretty lonely experience.

And then there was Namine. She was so sweet. So nice. So kind. Nothing at all like Larxene or Vexen, no matter how blonde she was. She knew next to nothing about science – she made Marluxia feel so smart. She knew everything about art, though. She was just so talented.

Marluxia's eyes drifted from the photographs to a drawing. It was a silly thing, a caricature of two people. Namine and Marluxia. It was fantastic. And it was crayon! She'd made this fantastic drawing in ten minuets using crayon. It was just so good.

Yep. Namine was sweet and kind and pretty and artistic and brilliant… and completely uninterested in him.

Marluxia rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. Fuck his life.


	8. Studying Your Every Motion 3

A/N: I'm glad that I got a few comments on this. I really was starting to lose hope about it – I sort of feel like nobody cares enough. But if even a few people want to read it, I'll do my best to make sure I can write something for them. Thanks guys.

Reviews fill me with

Unimaginable joy

And motivation

† † †

"I swear to God, I think I've met you somewhere before."

Namine looked up and blinked. "I-I'm sorry?"

The silver haired boy in front of her tilted his head. "Don't be sorry. I don't think it's a bad thing."

Namine glanced around the cafeteria nervously. Ok, so there was this cute guy standing right in front of her. And he was talking to her. And it was definitely to _her_, as opposed to somebody in that awkward earshot where you can start to reply before realizing that you were not the addressee.

She was the only one at her table, one of the only people in the caf, actually, as it was early morning on a Sunday, and most were home in their dorms, sleeping off Saturday, curtains drawn and covers pulled up against the bright sunlight which was merrily streaming through the windows and lighting Namine's table.

The blonde always woke early, of course. She didn't exactly "do" Saturday nights. She was in bed by eleven and up by seven, mature and sensible to the point of dullness. Namine often found herself to be the sole occupant of the cafeteria on mornings such as this.

Today, her only other company was the cafeteria ladies (very nice older women in hairnets who insisted upon feeding skinny little Namine more food than she could possibly consume), a table of soccer players having a post-morning-practice breakfast, and an apparently random smattering of other nerds.

Them…and this silver haired guy.

Namine looked back to him. "I-I really don't know," she stammered shyly. "I don't _think_ we've met?" He looked a little familiar to tell the truth. But Namine just could not place him.

"Well then that is a crime," the silver haired boy said. Suddenly a hand was in Namine's face. She leaned back, eyes crossing as she tried to focus on it. She gave up and looked back up to the boy's face. "My name's Riku," he introduced himself, smiling.

'_Oh my God, I didn't know teeth came in that color,'_ Namine thought to herself, _'He could sell bleach with those teeth. Bleach for clothes!'_

"Nami – err… Namine," she shook his hand.

Two hot guys had randomly walked up and introduced themselves to her in as many months. She'd gone all four years of high school attached at the hip to one guy, and terrified of even looking at anyone else. Maybe she was finally moving up in the world.

Or maybe it was a sign of the apocalypse. Whichever. At this point, she almost didn't even care.

"It's a pleasure, Namine," Riku said. He had a great voice, smooth and mid-range. Marluxia's was weirdly deep for his size, and Roxas' had been so darn high… this was kind of a shift in the right direction.

Bright eyes peeked out of silver side-swept bangs and glanced around Namine's table. Every inch of it was covered in art supplies. Pencils and watercolor cakes and thick cardstock sketchpads; Namine liked to work through lunch. Her chicken nuggets and salad took up a tiny corner of the table, banished to make room.

"Well I see you're busy," Riku said smoothly, "So I'll leave you to it." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles – he'd not let go of her that whole time. Namine's face grew very hot indeed as a blush formed.

"N-no!" she said a second too late, "I-I can move things. It's fine, really. No trouble at all."

Riku only smiled. "Don't worry about it," he waved away the offer effortlessly, "I should be going anyway. I'm sure I'll hear from you soon enough." He winked at her and her blush worsened.

He was smiling like he was suppressing a sarcastic laugh as he released her hand and turned to go.

"B-bye!" Namine stuttered, lips feeling a little numb. He didn't turn around.

Her hands were shaking. She glanced down at them only to see what she hadn't felt: a neatly folded strip of notebook paper, placed into her palm. She unfolded it with clumsy fingers that felt too big. The sheet had a name and a phone number – the name was _Riku_, of course, so the number could only be his cell phone.

To her embarrassment, Namine caught herself blushing all over again. He'd given her his number. She'd gotten a cute boy's number.

College was so awesome.


End file.
